


And Bring Them from Bondage, from Sorrows And Snares

by raspberryhunter



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Crisis of Faith, Leaving the Church, Loss of Faith, M/M, Mormonism, Post-Canon, Religion, faith - Freeform, supporting each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/pseuds/raspberryhunter
Summary: After his mission, Kevin Price struggles with his faith, and Connor McKinley is there for him. Connor struggles with his sexuality, and Kevin is there for him.





	And Bring Them from Bondage, from Sorrows And Snares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masterofmidgets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofmidgets/gifts).



> I... had a lot of feelings about your prompt. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Many thanks to my betas, iberiandoctor and sprocket <3
> 
> This fic is set circa 2011-2013, so there are some elements of it, including nomenclature, that a reader familiar with current events in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints will realize have been overtaken by other events.
> 
> Title is from the hymn "Ye Elders of Israel."

After his mission, Kevin Price goes to Harvard. Oh, he'd thought hard about attending BYU, and at one point had almost sent in the acceptance letter. But Harvard's a good school too, when it comes down to it, and he had thought it might help with a career in politics or something like that before he became a General Authority in the Mormon Church, maybe then an Apostle, the next step to becoming the Prophet, to doing something incredible.

Now -- after everything that's happened -- he's glad he made that decision for different reasons. The LDS community at Harvard is a lot smaller than Kevin had ever experienced, at least before college and his mission. There are only about thirty of them in the whole school! (There were more Mormons than that in his _neighborhood_ , back in Utah.) It makes it a lot easier to... blend in. To pretend he's not Mormon. His roommate isn't Mormon.

There were so many things he had not understood about Mormonism, things that didn't make any sense to him. Things he'd put on the shelf. Belief is a choice, his dad used to say to him when he'd bring up these questions. It's okay not to understand. You've just got to believe even when things don't make sense. It will all make sense in the afterlife. Don't you want to go to the celestial kingdom?

And then the shelf had fallen down. Maybe there's no celestial kingdom, no anything. _I'm just a guy, who will die._ He had had to face the truth of himself, in Uganda: that there were things about church history that made no sense to him, that he wasn't sure he believed Joseph Smith had _really_ translated a holy book of scripture from golden plates; that he wasn't sure he believed that President Thomas S. Monson talked directly to God; that he wasn't sure God actually existed. (Why do bad things happen? Heavenly Father had never answered him.) It was a lot more difficult than the physical abuse he had been put through on his mission, and that was saying a lot.

For a while, in Uganda, he thought he'd had the answer: that he could still be Mormon, that the words didn't matter, the particular contents of scripture, of theology, didn't matter.

Now, back in the United States, he's not so sure. He doesn't know what he thinks. It's all a confused painful mess.

He doesn't go to church. He says no to the group of Harvard LDS kids when they come knocking at his door and ask if he wants to go out for ice cream with them. 

But he isn't prepared, when his phone rings and he picks it up, to hear Elder McKinley's voice on the other line, bright and chipper as he always is. "Hi, Elder Pr-- Kevin! It's Elder McKinley! I mean, Connor. Did you know we're in the same ward? I'm at Boston University! Majoring in theatre, minoring in dance. I'm your home teacher! And Mike -- Elder Neeley -- is your other home teacher, he's at MIT -- did you know that he was a math whiz? Me neither, he never talked much."

Home teachers. Kevin hadn't thought about it, but of course he would have home teachers. Home teaching, a program in which pairs of men are assigned to be "teachers" to others, is supposed to minister to every person in the ward, which still technically includes Kevin. He feels vaguely like he ought to feel annoyed about it, since he's not even going to church these days, but instead he finds his lips curving up in a delighted smile. He'd missed those guys.

When Elder Mc-- Connor -- when Connor asks if they can come over, Kevin hesitates only a second before saying yes.

*

Connor is ecstatic when he and Mike are assigned as home teachers to Kevin. (Okay, Connor might have mentioned to the Elders Quorum president, several times, that he and Mike knew Kevin from their mission, and that they'd be happy to be matched up with him...) Home teaching is such an important job -- every couple of weeks they hear at church about how important it is -- and he can tell Kevin can really use the help. Poor Kevin, he hasn't been to church for a while. Connor is happy he has the chance to help Kevin!

He's also really happy because he just really likes Kevin, who's got a great smile, is very good-looking, and Connor enjoys looking at his legs, too. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It obviously doesn't mean anything at all.

He and Mike visit Kevin as soon as Connor can set up the appointment. Connor moves into the room as soon as Kevin opens the door, ducking under Kevin's arm. "Hey Kevin! It's great to see you again. Nice room! I don't think I've ever been in a Harvard building before. How have you been doing?"

"Okay," Kevin mumbles. 

"It's like mission reunion time!" Mike says, a little crookedly, like he's not sure whether he's glad of it or not. Connor hopes Kevin is glad, at least. Connor plops down on the futon that is the focal point of the room. Mike, a little more gingerly, comes to sit beside him. "You keep up with Elder Cunningham? Uh, I mean --"

"Arnold," Kevin supplies. He grins. "Yeah, we email a bunch. Um. I email him, and he sends me paper letters back because apparently he can receive but not send. Anyway, Arnold's keeping busy. He's still in Uganda. He and Nabulungi are engaged, and they're involved in all kinds of changes over there. Seems like he's having a lot of fun."

A silence falls. Connor can't help but try to fill it. "So, hey, Kevin, you haven't been to church --"

"Before you say it," Kevin says, swinging around to look at him, "I'm not going back to church. I mean, I might sometime. But not anytime soon."

"Kevin," Connor says softly. "What's the matter? I mean, I know our mission was rough --"

Kevin sighs and collapses into a beanbag chair next to the futon. "It was rough. Yeah, it was really rough. But that's not the real problem, you know. There are so many things that don't make sense -- have you seen the different accounts of Joseph Smith's vision? Do you remember all the bad stuff in Uganda that God just, just, let happen?" He makes a motion with his hands, and there is a look of bleakness on his face that makes Connor shiver.

Connor's never thought about whether things make sense or not. There are things that are hard for him, sure. There are things that make him feel guilty, things that he shoves out of the way. But this is a little different, and he doesn't know what to say.

"I know," Mike says beside him, a little hoarsely. "There are a bunch of things that don't make sense. I've thought that a lot too."

Connor blinks. He feels an odd emotion at the look that passes between Kevin and Mike, a look of understanding. He identifies it after a bit. Jealousy, he's jealous of Mike, that he understands Kevin about this -- but no. Jealousy is wrong, and doesn't even make sense, why would he be jealous of Mike? No. He knows what to do with those emotions. He turns it off. Click. Like it was never there at all.

"Why don't you come to church with us?" he says instead, ignoring all of that. "With Mike and me. You'd be with friends."

Kevin says quickly, "No, I don't want to go."

"Just once," Connor wheedles. He can see Kevin wavering. "I won't bug you after that. I promise." Mike says nothing.

"Maybe once," says Kevin. "Okay. For you, McKinley."

Kevin doesn't smile, but he looks at Connor, and Connor smiles at him. This is great! Kevin's going to go to church with him, they'll be together, and sit together. Being together: that's what's important.

*

Kevin knows church will be rough, but there is something about Connor's open sunny look, when he said he'd go, that he can't resist. Just once, he tells himself; it won't be that bad. And he can't deny it's a relief to be with Connor and Mike; they _understand_ about the Uganda mission, which people who weren't there really can't.

And... it's not so bad. Church is a blur of happy smiles. Kevin's missed this; he's missed the optimism and cheerfulness of his Mormon compatriots. He's missed the _faith_ , the sincere and bright faith that shines out of all the faces. 

He misses being like that. 

He's not that person any more.

He sits in the pew between Mike and Connor; he feels a little boxed in, but he wouldn't say that, not with the way Connor is beaming at him. There's something in him that softens helplessly when he sees Connor smile; Connor often has a slightly worried look, an expression Kevin remembers from their mission, and anything that takes that from his face makes Kevin feel a little better.

"Oh," Connor says, as a girl walks up to their pew, "move over, guys. Kevin, I don't think you've met. This is Katie. She's working as a nanny in Boston. Katie, this is Eld-- Kevin Price, from my mission."

The three of them move further down the pew so Katie can squeeze in the end. He looks at the way Katie is looking at Connor, and manages just in time to close his mouth before he blurts out, _I didn't think you liked girls!_ Instead he says, "Ah -- it's nice to meet you, Katie."

Katie smiles at him. She's a nice, clean-cut Mormon girl, the kind Kevin would be able to pick out as Mormon from across the room. "It's nice to meet you too, Kevin," she says in a soft voice. "I've heard a lot about you." She smiles at him, and then her smile widens as she looks at Connor, and Kevin can't help but notice that Connor's worried look is back.

Kevin looks at Mike, a little helplessly, and Mike looks back at him with a wry expression. 

Church starts. The first speaker gives a talk about service, where quotes from C.S. Lewis feature prominently. Connor leans over and whispers, "My first month here, I thought C.S. Lewis was a General Authority I'd never heard of!" 

Kevin chuckles a little, as he knows Connor wants him to do. Maybe he can handle going to church, he thinks. This isn't Utah, after all. There are probably people here who think like he does, so that it won't be too weird if he's not... not exactly a true believer, any more. And service: yes, the Church helps people. It does.

Is it worth staying for all the good he can do in the Church, even if he doesn't believe? Is he still a Latter-Day Saint? He doesn't know. Back in Uganda he told Elder Cunningham -- Arnold -- that he was still a Latter-Day Saint. But now he's no longer sure.

The second speaker goes up to the stand. "I know the Church is true!" he says, pounding his fist a little on the podium for emphasis. "You know, just the other day, I lost my car keys, and I prayed to Heavenly Father -- and the next place I looked, there they were!" He triumphantly displays them in his hand. "It's proof: Heavenly Father does answer prayers!"

And Kevin stands up, and blunders his way past Connor and Katie, and walks quickly out of the chapel and out of the church.

*

When Kevin gets up to leave, at first Connor thinks he's just going to the bathroom or something, but then he sees Kevin's face, frozen and shocky like when they'd found him in the bus station in Uganda, and he knows it's something worse. He pushes past Katie and goes after Kevin, but Kevin is moving quickly enough that he's outside before Connor catches up with him.

It's one of those rare beautiful late fall days, all golden sun and leaves and blue sky, but Kevin is clearly not seeing any of it. "Hey," Connor says softly. "Hey, Kevin, what happened?"

"It's not true," Kevin says, and there's an awful blankness in his voice. "Heavenly Father doesn't answer prayers."

"But -- " Connor says, and then decides to shut up.

"That's what we were told. 'Whatsoever thing ye shall ask in faith, believing that ye shall receive in the name of Christ, ye shall receive it.' Right?"

"Yeah," Connor says, relieved to have a question he can answer. Enos 1:15, scripture mastery!

"That guy, the speaker." Kevin compresses his lips together. "He prayed for his car keys, and they appeared. What about all the people who pray for things, and they don't happen?"

"I don't know," Connor says. And he doesn't. He's prayed so, so many times to have his sinful thoughts gone from him. The sinful thoughts he's having _right now_ , about Kevin's lips. He can turn them off, he's good at that, but they always come back. But he knows this moment isn't about him, it's about Kevin. "Kevin... I wish I knew."

Kevin snaps his eyes to Connor's and swallows whatever it is he's about to say. " _Oh_... Thanks, buddy." His tone is soft, gentle, and Connor can't help but react to it. "I mean... thanks for not telling me I'm crazy, for not telling me it's clearly all part of Heavenly Father's plan. I was honestly expecting that, and I just can't take that, I can't believe that right now."

Connor doesn't know what else to say, so he doesn't say anything, taking Kevin's hand for a second, and then letting it drop.

"Listen, Connor, I'm... going to go back to my room now. I hope that's okay." There's an earnestness in Kevin's face; Connor can tell that he really does want it to be okay.

And of course Connor would rather Kevin stay, but it's more important that Kevin know that Connor is okay with whatever Kevin chooses to do, because Connor's his friend. "Yeah, Kevin, that's fine." He gives Kevin a hug; Kevin is rigid for a second, but then hugs him back. "Listen, Kevin, we can be friends, even if you don't want to go to church. I promise."

Kevin nods, jams his hands in his pockets, and walks away. Connor watches him for a while, and then goes back into the church building. It's starting to get cold.

*

Kevin doesn't really believe Connor when he says they can be friends even if he doesn't go to church. He knows how this goes; he's done it himself. When you stop going to church, people might pretend to be friends, for a while. They come by with cookies and oh-so-convenient invitations to church. But if you keep rebuffing their initiatives, if you tell them how much you really might not believe it, they stop talking to you. You drop off their radar. Gradually, it's like you were never there at all.

He's surprised when Connor turns out to actually mean it. Connor is always texting or emailing Kevin to tell him about some odd thing that happened in his theatre classes or productions, or just to ask him how he's doing. He even drops by Kevin's room sometimes just to chat, or invites Kevin over to his place to play computer games, even though they live far enough apart that it can be kind of a slog, especially when it starts snowing. Sometimes Mike comes along too, sometimes he doesn't. Mike also, surprisingly, seems interested in being Kevin's friend as well, although he isn't quite as insistent on it as Connor.

Kevin starts emailing and texting Connor back, telling him about his Ethical Reasoning class on brains and identity, and what it might mean about free will that memory can be so mutable. He's not sure Connor would even find this interesting -- it's got nothing to do with dance or theatre -- but Connor seems to, and Kevin finds his stories about dance interesting as well, even though Kevin knows nothing about dance. Maybe it's because Connor is the one telling them.

*

Dating is one of those things that returned Mormon missionaries are supposed to do, and Connor usually asks Katie because she's nice, cheerful, and a good sport about everything. Sometimes Katie and Connor go on double-dates with Kevin, and sometimes triple-dates with Kevin and Mike. Neither Kevin nor Mike has a long-standing girlfriend. When he asks Kevin about it, Kevin shrugs and says, "I haven't met the right girl yet, I guess. And Mike -- well, you'd better ask Mike yourself."

"What are you looking for in a girlfriend, Price?" Connor asks. He doesn't know why he cares so much.

Kevin sighs. "I don't know, Connor. I mean, part of it's that you're not supposed to think about girls until after your mission, so... I didn't, and now it's sort of weird to think that I should be suddenly thinking about them now. But also it's that my whole life I've been told about the kind of girl I should be looking for, a faithful and pure Mormon girl, one who's been saving herself for me from the moment she's been born..."

He smiles bitterly. Connor can see his hands clench. "But that's not something I really believe any more, that we're predestined for those kinds of things." He breathes out. "And a girl like that wouldn't want me either, of course -- me, Kevin, failed missionary who might not even believe in God." Connor realizes that he's right; the girls he's found for Kevin from the ward haven't been that excited when they find out Kevin's not particularly active. But still --

"It's okay, Kevin," Connor says softly. He wants so badly for Kevin to understand. This is the important thing, the most important thing, that Kevin understands this: "You are of such great worth, Kevin. You, yourself, not what you might or might not believe."

Kevin does not look entirely convinced, but he relaxes a little.

*

Kevin can pinpoint the exact moment when he makes the final decision that he needs to leave the Church.

He actually does go back to church, every once in a while. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's for Connor and Mike. Maybe it's to remind himself of all the things that hurt.

He goes to the last Christmas program before the schools let out for the holiday, and that one's particularly painful. There is wonderful music; a couple of the Boston Conservatory students play carols together, and it brings tears to Kevin's eyes. In Sunday School, several of the guys, smiling, pass around signup sheets for the various service projects the ward is doing. "Just because it will be Christmas soon," one of them says, "doesn't mean we have to stop doing service!"

The Church helps the world. This ward helps the world. Doesn't he want that? He does want that. He wants it very much.

He glances over at Connor, who smiles at him, and then he sees Katie beside him, smiling at Connor. Connor sees Katie's face too, and he furrows his brow. Kevin's not even sure Connor knows he's doing it.

Kevin does see all the good the Church does. But he can't ignore all the rest of it; he can't ignore how it hurts people, either.

When everyone comes back from Christmas break, he and Connor are watching a dumb sitcom on Connor's TV just because neither of them wants to study, and he says to Connor, "There's something I have to tell you."

Connor raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? Go ahead."

Kevin says slowly, "I will be a Latter-Day Saint until I die." He pauses. He knows saying it will make it real in a way it wasn't real before. "But I don't think I can be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints any more."

It is the hardest thing he's ever said. It's painful to say, almost a physical pain in his side, to think that he's turning away from all the light and life the Church says it's offering him, turning away from the community and the love he does know is there. And he's afraid, too. He's afraid that everything will be different between him and Connor. He's afraid Connor will turn away from him. He's afraid he won't have his friend any more, And he starts crying, as he hasn't cried since he was a kid. But instead of turning away, instead of leaving, Connor holds him and doesn't say anything, and Kevin is so grateful to have him there.

*

It's in March, when the world is mostly still all grey and cold, but getting a little brighter, when Katie catches him after church. "Connor."

"Hey, Katie." He smiles at her. Katie is a nice girl, and he likes her uncomplicatedly because she's nice. It's not like Kevin, whom Connor is drawn to but who inspires all kinds of complicated feelings that he doesn't want to think about, and mostly succeeds. "Shall I walk you to the T?"

She starts walking beside him. There is a lot of half-melted snow from one of the previous snowstorms, dirty and grey, but at least the sidewalks are clear. Katie's face is troubled. "Connor, we have to talk."

"Um, okay? What is it?"

"We've been going on dates for a while now, and I just thought -- we should talk about what's going on with our relationship. I mean, do we even have a relationship? I thought we did, but -- you've never even kissed me, or anything. I thought it was because you were a gentleman, but I don't know, maybe, maybe you don't like me as much as I like you --"

He opens his mouth and shuts it again.

He'd thought that turning off his thoughts was the solution, that he didn't have to have _those_ kinds of thoughts.

The problem is, he suddenly understands that it's not only himself who's affected. Because if he goes the way he's going, yes, he can turn off those thoughts, but eventually he's going to have to marry Katie, or someone like her, and have kids with her, an eternal family. That's what he's supposed to want.

And he likes Katie, he likes her a lot, and he doesn't mind going out to dinner on Friday evenings with her, but he doesn't want to spend _eternity_ with her, and a small part of his head realizes that he can't do this. He could perhaps do this to himself. (Maybe the boxes where he's boxed all this up won't eventually explode.) (Maybe.) But he can't do this to Katie or some other perfectly nice Mormon girl.

Because it's not Katie whom Connor dreams about. It's -- But he can't think about that. He can't. He folds it up in its box.

Only there are too many things in boxes, too many things, _too many things_ \--

"I don't like you that way," he blurts out. "It's not you, it's me."

And it's the most awful cliche way he can think of to break up with someone (only they weren't actually in a relationship, were they? Were they?) and he sees a whole panoply of emotions go across Katie's face: hurt, and sadness, and even a little anger; but also some understanding. He sees tears in her eyes. "I wondered," she said softly.

He wishes he could comfort her, but he can't. "It's really not you, you know," he says wretchedly. "I'm sorry."

She sighs. "I'm sorry too."

*

Kevin's doing... okay, these days. Sometimes it seems really hard, it's like a whole part of him has been torn away. The other people he's around, the non-Mormons, they don't understand. "You're well out of it," his roommate says. "You used to go to three hours of church? In this day and age? Come on!"

Kevin can't explain that he hasn't just lost obligations. He's lost a whole community, a sense of commitment. A sense of belonging. A whole world he understood everything about. Who here, on the outside, knows what an Elders Quorum is, or a Stake President?

But he finds other communities, other commitments. He's always been a good participant in his class sections, but he steps it up a notch, tries to see if he can make friends with his classmates, with mixed results. Still. Mixed results are better than none. One of these classmates tells him about an extracurricular that tries to help provide access to medical care internationally. Remembering the little children of Uganda, Kevin volunteers to spearhead an effort to collect some medical and sanitation supplies. He writes Arnold an email about it and gets a hand-written, ink-stained letter back.

So: he's doing okay. When he looks at his life, it's pretty darn good. The loneliness is still there, but it's getting smaller.

It helps -- it helps a lot -- that Connor always stops by after church and says hi, even though Kevin is definitely not going to church any more, and Kevin has taken to making sure he's in his room at that hour. Today, though, Connor doesn't show up at his usual time, and Kevin has almost abandoned his pretense at trying to get some homework done when he hears Connor's knock. Kevin jumps up and opens the door, not bothering to hide his smile, but then he sees Connor's expression, and his smile fades. "Hey. Hey. Connor. What's going on?"

Connor half-stumbles into the room, collapses on the futon, and Kevin is dismayed to see that his eyes are bright with tears. "I... broke up with Katie."

"Oh." Kevin rapidly discards his first impulse to say, _It's about time._ "I'm sorry. That sounds hard."

Connor draws in a shuddering breath. "But that's exactly the problem. It wasn't hard." His face crumples.

Kevin crouches down beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Connor. Stay with me, buddy. What do you mean, it wasn't hard?"

Connor shakes his head and turns it away from Kevin, folding in on himself. "I don't think I can do this. I know that's the plan, the plan of salvation, boys need to be with girls, that's Heavenly Father's plan, but _I don't think I can do this._ "

Kevin sits back on his heels, but keeps his hand on Connor's shoulder. "I... see. And that's why you broke up with Katie."

Connor sighs. "Yeah."

They are both silent for a minute. Kevin says gently, "You know I don't believe a lot of what the Church thinks, Connor. And I have a lot of doubts in general. But I do believe, if there is a God, if there is a Heavenly Father who loves us, that he wouldn't want you to hide away and turn off a part of yourself. He'd want you to... be yourself. To be the person you are, that's the person God would love. And that's the person that I -- that I'm friends with," he finishes, a little lamely.

Connor looks at him. "You mean that? You would still like me if I were --" He stops. "But that's the other thing. If I don't like girls, then I'm going against the Church's teachings. Then --" He shudders. "I can't be a Mormon and go against the Church's teachings. But if I can't be that way, I might -- I might have to -- I don't want to --"

"I know," Kevin whispers. And he does. He knows exactly how Connor feels about the Church right now, that agonized love for it and the knowledge that he can't be a part of it even if he loves it.

"I'm glad," Connor says brokenly, "I'm glad you understand, Kevin," and then he does start crying, and Kevin strokes his hair awkwardly.

*

Connor is not entirely sure how he gets through the next month or two. He had realized while talking to Kevin, in a moment of cold clarity, that finally accepting that he was gay meant that he could not stay in the Church, but it's not that simple. He doesn't want to leave the Church. It's always been a mainstay of his life.

He tries one more time. He goes to church for several weeks, tries to pay attention to the topics of the talks and not let his mind wander to what he's realizing has always been the case: thinking about how snappy all the guys look in their suits and ties. Katie avoids him. Mike sits beside him for a while, but after a couple of weeks Connor realizes how much Mike's eyes are wandering to wherever Katie is sitting rather than looking at the speaker. Suddenly he understands why Mike never had a steady girlfriend either, and he nudges Mike. "Go sit with Katie," he says.

"But --" says Mike, looking at him worriedly.

"Go," Connor says, and Mike doesn't need any more prompting.

It also makes it easier to leave when the speaker starts talking about eternal families and about the Proclamation on the Family, which says marriage should be between a man and a woman. He's never disputed that, never questioned that --

Only now he does.

He usually goes to see Kevin after he leaves church, and Kevin never says anything negative, either about him or about the Church. He talks about other things, like his government classes, or asks Connor hilariously over-the-top questions about dance ("So the only dance I've ever seen is that sugar plum dance, do you do that one?" "No, Price, that's ballet. I'm a tap dancer. And do I look like a ballerina?" "How am I supposed to know?") that always make Connor smile. If anything Kevin treats Connor very gently, as if he'd been ill and it is up to him, Kevin, to make sure that Connor recovers.

But just hanging out with Kevin helps him to see: life isn't over for Kevin just because he's not going to church. He'd always been told that people who didn't go to church were desperately unhappy, because how could they be happy without the gospel in their life? But Kevin is fine. He's happy, he's doing well, he's much happier than he was, say, on their mission, or when Connor dragged him to church those couple of times. Kevin's started telling him about some service projects he's doing, and his face lights up when he talks about them. And he is talking about going to Uganda again once he's got his government degree, and is full of life and hope when he speaks about it. Connor watches him, as if he's a compass pointing the way, an iron rod in the darkness.

He stops going to church. He still has the Spooky Mormon Sons of Perdition Dream every night, just like before. The first couple of weeks after he stops attending church are terrible. He gets barely any sleep, fearing the nightmares, and makes enough mistakes in his dance routines that one of his teachers takes him aside, worried, and asks him if he's okay. He replies that it's just some personal things, and he should be better soon, and although the teacher still looks uneasy he accepts that answer.

But the world doesn't end. And weirdly enough, after a while, even the dreams don't seem nearly as awful and scary as they used to.

And Connor also starts to realize something else. Kevin is talking about a letter he just got from Arnold, in which Arnold is apparently self-publishing a book. "Chock-full of his, um, stories," Kevin says, grinning, gesturing with his arms in a way that is apparently meant to indicate the sheer level of preposterousness of Arnold's stories, and Connor looks at Kevin's smile and the way that lock of hair won't stay down and the dimple in Kevin's cheek and realizes --

It's not just that he likes guys. It's that he likes _Kevin_. That he's fallen in love with Kevin. That he wants more than anything to kiss that dimple, to hold Kevin in his arms, and then he wants to --

He makes up some lame excuse and leaves earlier than he usually does. 

Once he realizes it, he can't turn it off, possibly because he doesn't want to. He thinks about Kevin all the time. He has fewer spooky dreams because instead he's dreaming about Kevin. 

The only person he tells is Mike, who might not understand but who at least knows Kevin. Mike says, brow furrowed, "So, have you told Kevin this?"

"No, of course not!"

"Well," Mike says patiently, "why not? It's not like he's a Mormon any more."

Connor sighs. "But --" And he can't say the rest: what if he doesn't like me any more? What if he doesn't want to be my friend any more?

*

Kevin and Mike still get together every month for lunch on a Saturday; it turns out they both like an Indian place in Central Square, halfway between their schools. Kevin suspects Mike, the last of the three of them who is still in the Church, is only keeping up with him because he wants to check off that box that says he's being a good home teacher by seeing him every month. It's hard not to suspect that when Mike usually texts him the last week of the month. But he doesn't mind. Much. Okay, it's hard to think of himself as a check in the box.

He says as much to Mike, who has the virtue that he listens calmly to whatever Kevin has to say, and Mike laughs. "Can't it be both? I like talking to you, Price. But I'll admit I also like putting that check in the box."

Kevin says curiously, "You think a lot of the same things as me, I think. You see all the problems with the Church. But you're all in. How does that work?"

Mike's face freezes. "I don't know," Mike says slowly. "I don't know what I believe, and it seems to change every day." His words are faltering, as if he's never articulated these things, maybe not even to himself. "Sometimes I feel like I believe it all, and sometimes I'm not even sure I believe in God. But at least for right now, I feel the Spirit of the Lord at church as much as I can say I ever do. And it's my community, my family, and there are so many good things about it, you know? So much good it does in the world."

"Yeah," Kevin says. "I get it." He does. The pull of it is strong, even for him. "And Katie too, hmm?"

Mike gives him a half-smile. "Yeah. And Katie."

"But," says Kevin, "there's no Katie for me, and it's hard for me to feel that way. And there's a lot of damage too, a lot of ways the Church hurts people. It's not for me."

"Yeah." Mike smiles sadly at him. "I get it, I do. There are lots of different ways to live in the world, aren't there? We'll still be friends. And who knows, maybe someday I'll leave. Or you'll come back."

Kevin nods, and doesn't say that he's really pretty sure he won't be coming back. But yes, perhaps someday Mike will leave, and Kevin makes a promise to himself, right then, that he'll be there for Mike if and when he does.

"And --" Mike hesitates. "I really think you should talk to Connor."

"About what?"

"I just think you should talk to him," Mike repeats doggedly, and won't say anything more.

*

"Mike says I should talk to you," Kevin says to Connor, looking adorably confused. "But he wouldn't tell me why. I told him I talk to you all the time -- "

"Gosh _darn_ it," Connor says, almost violently. "Mike shouldn't have said anything!" He had told Mike about his feelings for Kevin in a burst of self-pity and loneliness, but Mike wasn't supposed to then talk to Kevin about it!

"He _didn't_ say anything," says Kevin patiently.

Connor stammers, "I thought he might have said. I mean. The thing is."

Kevin starts looking concerned. "You all right? What's going on, buddy? You know it'll be okay, I'm here for you."

It's now or never. Connor is learning not to put things in boxes; well, here's another thing he's going to just have to take out of its box. "I... I like you, Kevin. I mean, I _really_ like you."

"Oh," Kevin says, looking stunned; clearly this has not occurred to him before. He is quiet for a moment, processing. " _Oh._ "

"It's okay," Connor says, low. "I know you don't like guys, not that way --"

"Wait! I never said I didn't like guys. Or, okay, I guess I did kinda say in Uganda that I didn't have gay thoughts. But I mean, it was mostly that I never thought about it."

" -- and we can still be friends, I don't expect you to -- wait, you what?"

"I never thought about it. I didn't really think about who I might or might not be attracted to."

"You never thought about it." Connor is not sure he knows whether he wants to laugh or cry. "Because --"

The corner of Kevin's lips quirks. Connor wants to kiss that corner of Kevin's mouth, wants to do more, more and more things that he had always put in a box before. Realizing that maybe he doesn't have to put them in a box any more feels... like freedom.

"Yeah, because the Church said not to. But, um-- I'm trying to be open to new things now. See, look, I bought shorts that show my knees!" He gestures to Connor.

Connor can't help but smile. "They're very nice knees, Kevin," he says gravely. They are. Connor likes the new shorts.

"So, uh -- I mean, I'm willing to give it a try."

Connor had known that was what important was being together with Kevin. It was important that Kevin knew how special he was to Connor.

It is still what's important. Everything else might have changed, things that he used to believe might have changed, but what he knew in his heart hasn't changed.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Kevin's cheek. Kevin doesn't resist or pull away, as Connor was half expecting, but only looks at Connor steadily. And Connor leans forward and presses his lips against Kevin's.

And then the miracle happens: Kevin closes his eyes and makes a noise deep in his throat, and kisses him back. And Connor knows, beyond the possibility of doubt or fear, that he is meant to be here, here with Kevin; _this_ , his heart tells him, _this is true._ And he wraps his arms around Kevin and kisses him again.


End file.
